Listen to the Lost
by dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: Sequel to Turnabout Perspective. Caught in the spell that transformed Castiel into a human, Naomi fell, but did not perish. But one wounded angel, even a commander, can't stop the chaos erupting on the Earth. Now, the only chance she has is to find Castiel and fulfill her promise: to listen. AU Season 10.
1. Chapter 1

**Listen to the Lost**

 **Summary:** Metatron stabbed Naomi in the head with a drill. But it didn't kill her. Just left her badly injured and mostly dead. Fallen to Earth, Naomi seeks out Castiel. Not to kill him, but to fulfill the promise she made. A promise to listen. But can an injured angel, even a leader of Heaven, and Heaven's most wanted truly stop the violence filling the world? Can she stop her followers? AU Season 9. Sequel to Turnabout Perspective.

 **Chapter One: Fallen Angels**

The angels fell.

In a ruined church, a demon made almost human, tortured by his guilt, watched the sky burn with falling bodies. His newly awoken soul was too wracked with pain and grief to feel anything other than sorrow. Certainly not the vindictive pleasure he might once have felt.

Outside the ruined church, two brothers watched the angels fall, flashing like meteors. Falling, burning, crashing to the ground. The youngest slumped against their car, barely conscious, not fully aware of what was happening. The eldest supported his brother, his eyes devastated. "Angels...they're falling. Cas, what have you done?" His words were half prayer, half horrified lament.

In a deep underground bunker, a storehouse of supernatural knowledge, a young man stood, watching a 75 year old map light up as alarms sounded throughout the structure. His eyes were filled with horror, regret, anger, fear, and a deep sense of confused pain.

In a patch of woods, a man staggered into a clearing, gasping in horror as he watched the angels fall. His eyes were wide and anguished, filled with pain and guilt so great as to seem unbearable. He stood, heedless of his surroundings, one hand clenched at his side, the other touching his neck, where an hour ago his throat had been cut, his essence drained from him, transforming him from angel to man. In the light of the falling angels, two tears slid from his devastated eyes to fall onto his dirty trench-coat. Unheard by anyone, a litany spilled from his lips. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me..."

In another place, a slender, battered woman staggered into a parking lot, her eyes watching the sky. Blood trickled down the back of her neck, staining the collar of her suit. Her eyes were full of horror, and of regret, and pain. "No. Castiel..."

 *****LttL*****

Naomi stood and watched as the angels fell, helpless.

She was aware of the wound on the back of her head. Aware too that she had been injured in her fall from Heaven. She hurt. Her wings felt all but destroyed. Her Grace held only a fraction of her usual strength.

She was surprised to be alive. When Metatron had ambushed her on her return to her office, when he'd stabbed her with the interrogation drill, she'd thought she was done for. The pain had been blinding, incapacitating her completely. And yet, it hadn't quite killed her. She'd been paralyzed, but not dead.

She had seen everything, and even as an angel, she shivered at the knowledge of Metatron's twisted evil, at the horror she had seen.

Castiel had come, as she'd asked him to. He was just as likely to have come to rescue Metatron as to speak to her, but he had come.

She hadn't been able to see, but she had felt his presence, felt the spike of confusion, followed by shock as Metatron's drawling voice sneered at him. "She told you I lied, didn't she? You should have listened to the bitch."

She had heard the scuffle and thump of someone being shoved into the interrogation chair, the snap of manacles. The spike of fear that she recognized as Castiel's. She had felt it so often when she'd administered his 'correction'.

She'd heard Metatron's explanation. Felt the ice-cold horror at what he had done.

He had taken Castiel's grace. Ripped it from him by force. Not even Lucifer had suffered such a fate, such a cruelty. There had been fallen angels who had ripped out their own Grace in the fall, but nothing like this, this deliberate stripping of everything that made an angel an angel. It was a violation that she could never have conceived of. Re-writing an angel's mind, yes, she'd done that. But what Metatron had done to Castiel was an abomination.

And then Metatron had cast the spell to send Castiel to Earth, and she had been caught in it, weak enough to be swept away.

Had she fallen as her fellow angels were falling, it would have killed her. But the spell Metatron had used on Castiel had been a gentler one, meant to convey a human soul through the fall, and that had been her salvation. She had been as weak as the Fallen seraph.

The last of the lights faded from the sky. The angels had fallen. Heaven was closed.

The earth was about to erupt into chaos. And she was too weak to prevent it. There had been numerous factions in Heaven, her own included. Weak as she was, she had no power to stem the fighting about to break out. She didn't even have the strength to call out to her comrades. The drill Metatron had driven into her had damaged her.

She needed to find Castiel. She had promised Castiel that she would listen to him. And now...that was more important than ever.

Castiel was a scapegoat. She was a strategist, and she knew Metatron's strategy. He had made Castiel gather the spell components, so the Seraph's hands would be visible in the process, then taken his Grace. It would serve to make it seem as if Castiel had known the plan all along, because it was unheard of for an angel to strip another of his Grace, but not for an angel to donate their power to a certain goal. And it left Castiel helpless prey, to be hunted while Metatron strengthened his own power base in Heaven. Given Castiel's already tarnished reputation, most of the heavenly Host would be eager to pursue him and their own agendas, leaving Metatron far too much time to plan.

She was the only one who knew that Castiel was truly innocent. He had been tricked. Tricked into destroying the Heaven he had sought to save.

Regret filled her. She had meant what she said to the seraph, and to Dean Winchester. Forced to re-examine her views of Castiel in light of Metatron's memories, she had come to realize she had badly misjudged him. Castiel had done terrible things, there was no denying it, but he had always done them with a goal of protecting that which God had created. Protecting humanity, God's last and best loved creation. Protecting Heaven, in spite of everything he had endured.

She wished she had been able to prove to him that she was sincere about listening to him. Perhaps, if she could find him, she would be able to help him, to prove herself to him.

If she could find him. With the transformation to human, his essence had changed. She wouldn't be able to track him through his Grace. That was gone. And, wrapped in heavenly power as they were, she hadn't been able to read the signature of his soul before Metatron had flung them both from Heaven.

If she could not find Castiel, perhaps she could find the Winchesters. They were warded, but she knew roughly where they had been. The ritual for closing the gates of Hell generated a great deal of power.

She would go to them. And as she traveled, she would listen for word of Castiel.

She was wounded, unable to fly. She would need to find alternate means of transportation. She surveyed the parking lot, looking at the options available, and began to plan.

 _ **Author's Note:** This just started as an idle wish that someone in Heaven would have listened to Castiel at least once. Then I watched the Season finale of Season 8, and this little idea formed. We never saw Naomi's wings when she died in the episode, so it seemed possible that she survived at least to Fall. So...onwards and upwards._


	2. Chapter 2: Searching Souls

**Chapter** **Two:** **Searching** **Souls**

Daybreak found Castiel on the side of a highway. Tired, aching, stumbling along in dirty attire that he no longer had the power to clean himself. He had no idea where he was. No idea if the gates of Hell had been closed, if Sam and Dean were still alive. For the first several hours he had heard the screams of his siblings, cast down and terrified and angry, but even that had faded, leaving him in an empty silence that was both relief and agonizingly painful.

He no longer had a cell phone. He couldn't call Dean. All he could do was keeping walking down the road, hoping to come to a town where he could find some form of long distance communication.

It was hot, and getting hotter. His jacket and suit jacket were stifling, and heat radiated from the dark pavement through his shoes and socks, making his feet more than a little uncomfortable. Sweat trickled over his face, into his eyes, and stung. It slithered in slow droplets down his back, collected under his arms, leaving the fabric of his clothing damp and chaffing. And he had not the slightest idea what to do about it.

It didn't help that every pain, every annoyance, every drop of sweat and aching muscle was a stark reminder that his Grace was gone. He was human, no longer even a weakened or fallen angel.

The loud blast of a horn startled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see a truck barreling down at him. He gasped, tried to fly and got nowhere. Some latent human instinct, from the numerous times he had been without power before, made him leap for the side of the road, smashing hard into the gravel and rolling into grass and dirt. Pain assaulted his mind, radiating up from his hands, arms and knees.

He gasped, turned his hands palm upward. Gravel had slashed and embedded itself in the soft skin, leaving half a dozen oozing cuts on each hand, all of them stinging and painful. The sensation made it hard to breathe, made him want to curl up in a ball around his wounds. The sweat on his skin did nothing to help the sensation, burning in his cuts.

"Hey buddy! You okay?" Castiel looked up.

The driver of the truck had stopped several yards away and was hastening towards him, eyes wide. "Buddy! You okay? You hit your head or anything?" The man stopped a short distance away, crouching to look him in the eye.

"No. I did not hit my head. I am..." He started to say fine, but he was trying to stand, and he pressed his hand into his leg and wound up hissing in pain instead. "It hurts..." He hadn't meant to say it, but the truth was, it hurt more than he would have thought possible.

The driver caught a glimpse of his hands as he jerked them upward, fingers curling in automatic response. "Damn...that's some bad road slash you got there. Hey, I've got some stuff in the truck, we can patch you up. Least I can do."

He almost refused. Almost told the man he would heal himself. But then the truth hit him full force once more.

He had no healing powers any longer. The wounds would close eventually, but he couldn't will away the dirt and make them disappear with a thought.

He would never be able to do so again. He choked on the thought, felt his breathing speed up. "I…."

The truck driver watched him a moment, eyes sympathetic, then rose to his feet and extended a hand. "Come on. I've got antiseptic and bandages, and I can give you a lift as far as the next town at least. You look like you need it."

He wasn't sure how this man would pick him up, or how that would get him to the next town, but it might be better than walking. And he had no idea how to tend his own wounds. Perhaps the man could teach him how. He nodded, let the truck driver lift him by his elbow and steer him to the waiting vehicle.

Inside, the man pulled a small white box with a red cross on it from a compartment, then pulled out bandages, a small bottle that sloshed, and some other things. He retrieved a bottle of water, then took Castiel's left hand in his own and gestured for him to sit in the seat. "So...this is gonna hurt a bit. You might as well talk to me, distract yourself."

He would have protested, but then the man poured the water over his hand and swiped the rag he'd pulled from his kit over it, and suddenly Castiel found himself desperate for any distraction. "What should I talk about?"

"Well, this is kind of an out of the way place, and you don't look like you've been out camping. How'd you wind up on this highway?"

"I...walked from where I regained consciousness, and happened upon this road."

"Regained consciousness? What happened? Somebody attack you?"

"Yes." Metatron had. "He incapacitated me and threw me out." He left the story vague, remembering some of Dean's long ago lessons on prevaricating.

"Ouch. Rough luck buddy." The driver poured liquid from the small bottle over his hand, and Castiel hissed and jerked reflexively at the sharp stinging as the liquid frothed into white foam. "Sorry, but this has gotta be done. Don't want an infection setting in. You been out here long?"

"I awoke a few miles back, last night."

"Last night? You see that wacky meteor shower?"

Anguish speared through him. His falling brothers and sisters...he swallowed hard. "Yes. I saw them fall."

The man looked up at his tone of voice, and his expression softened again. "Sorry. You probably had other things on your mind." He looked back down, his hands working to smooth ointment onto Castiel's palm, then bandage it. "By the way, I'm David."

"I am Castiel."

"Interesting name." David set to work on his other hand. "So...in case you didn't know, you're in Tennessee. Do you live nearby?"

"No. I was..." He paused, remembering. The Winchesters had been in a small abandoned church near their living place. "I need to be in Kansas."

David pursed his lips. "That's a long way from here, and it's out of my route. Still, I can take you part of the way. You got someone you can call to help you out?"

"Yes. I hope so." He hoped Dean would answer his call.

"Great." The truck driver finished with his hands and closed the medical kit back up. Castiel flexed his fingers. It felt so foreign, without his Grace tingling through the joints. Heavy. Dulled. But it did hurt less. The ointment was soothing. The bandages were confining, but cool and soft against his abused skin.

David went to the other side of the truck, put the kit away, then retrieved another bottle and a loosely wrapped package from the floor as he settled back behind the wheel. He waited until Castiel had mirrored his posture in the other seat then handed him the package, revealing a sandwich and some chips, and a bottle of water. "Here. Might be a good idea to get some food and water into you. You look a little dehydrated, and you're probably starving."

"Actually, I don't need to eat or drink." Though he did feel...something. Something that reminded him of the effects of Famine on his vessel years ago.

David glanced sidelong at him. "Yeah? Well...humor me, okay? You're all red-faced and sweaty, you look like hell. And I'd feel truckloads better if you'd just try to eat that, so I don't sit here expecting you to keel over any second."

Put that way...He twisted the cap off the bottle of water the way he'd seen Dean do it, tipped a little into his mouth. He was far clumsier than normal, and some of it splashed the front of his shirt. It felt remarkably cooling, and the wash of water over his tongue seemed to wake something in him. He finished half the bottle before he realized what he was doing.

His midsection made a highly audible gurgling noise, embarrassing him. David grinned. "Figured a little water would wake up your system. You're so strung out you didn't even realize how bad it was." The man's eyes were friendly. "I've seen that look on guys doin' a long haul before. You go ahead and get that into your system, then catch some rest if you can. I'll let you know when we get to a gas station, and you can find a phone."

The sandwich was looking more appealing by the second. He unwrapped it, bit tentatively into a corner. As an angel, he'd had very little tolerance for food. Only strong flavors like alcohol or sugar were even remotely palatable. But now...the sandwich was ham and cheese with lettuce and tomato and a little mayo, and it was wonderful. He swallowed, then looked down at it. "I shouldn't take your food."

David laughed as he pulled the rumbling truck out of it's parked position and guided it back onto the road. "I've got more man. I've got more. You just go ahead."

Phrased like that, Castiel saw no reason to object. "Thank you."

"No problem. Always happy to help. And it was the least I could do, nearly running you over like that."

He didn't know what to say to that, so Castiel applied himself to finishing the sandwich and chips, as well as the bottle of water. And to enjoying the cold air blowing out of the vents.

Ten minutes later, the food was gone, and he found himself drifting into a restless slumber, one final thought echoing in his head. _Dean...are_ _you_ _and_ _Sam_ _all_ _right?_

 _***_ LttL***

Dean collapsed into the chapel pew, then leaned forward to rest his head on on the pew in front of him. He felt dead tired, his heart aching and heavy.

He'd stopped Sam from completing the trials, but it hadn't helped like he'd hoped. He'd hoped stopping the trials would nix the magic juice or whatever flowing around his brother's system, and Sam'd be fine. Just like that. Only...it hadn't happened like that.

He had a mostly human demon stuffed in his trunk, because he hadn't wanted to leave Crowley where the demon could get into mischief and didn't know what else to do with the bastard. He'd considered killing him, but he might be good for information. Besides, Sammy had spent all that time trying to cure him. His brother might get upset if he axed the demon.

If his brother ever woke up. Sam had collapsed into unconsciousness shortly after the angels fell. Dean had dragged him to the hospital in a panic. The doctors had rushed him to Emergency. One of them had come by to tell him the results of their tests a little bit ago, and it wasn't good. Sam was in a coma, his body shutting down. The doctors were a little puzzled by his symptoms, and had made a tentative diagnosis of some rare blood or neurological disorder that was causing his brother to more or less fall apart inside. The doctor who'd delivered the diagnosis had been kind, but blunt. He'd said that if they had any other family, it would be best to call them. Because Sam's odds of survival were worse than a terminal stage cancer patient.

And if that wasn't enough, the only family he would have called, and the only person he knew who might have been able to make a difference, was MIA. He'd called for Cas several times, both in prayer and on his phone, with no answer. He'd heard nothing from the angel since Castiel had disappeared to confront Naomi in Heaven.

He didn't know if Castiel had Fallen like his siblings or not. He didn't know if Cas was even alive. He'd seen one angel fall close by, close enough to see the angel's wings burn off before he pancaked at terminal velocity. If that had happened to Cas...he didn't even know where to start looking for the body. And that hurt almost as much as the knowledge that Sam was dying in a hospital bed.

The thought that Cas might have died, and before they'd sorted out their issues...it hurt.

He didn't even know how Kevin was. He assumed the kid was still in the Bunker, though after having translated the Demon Tablet, the kid could very well have lit out for home. He'd tried calling the Bunker, and Kevin's cell phone, but no luck.

Dean let his head rest against the smooth wood for a moment, then pulled himself upright and folded his hands in front of him.

He didn't have time to worry about Cas and Kevin. Sammy was dying, and it was obvious no normal medicine was gonna save him. That left just one option in Dean's book. It was risky, and it was beyond stupid, but it was the only hope he had.

He closed his eyes and focused. "All right. This goes out to any angel with their ears on. This is Dean Winchester, and I need help." He didn't bother to mention that his brother was dying. Most angels considered his brother an abomination. Instead, he focused on the location of the hospital. He prayed for several minutes, half hoping that some angel would show up right then and there. But none of them did.

He sighed, then shoved himself to his feet and left the chapel, heading out to his car. There was no guarantee that any angels who answered his call would be friendly. Way too many of them wanted to kill him and his brother. He'd made plans, prepared as well as he could, but he didn't want to be near Sammy if any hostile angels came looking for him.

No, he'd wait it out in the parking garage, where he'd set up the holy oil ring and other traps. If any angels came, he'd trap them, get their names and intentions (assuming they didn't start out trying to kill him), and then he'd take them to his brother.

He stopped by the nurses station to get an update on his brother. His condition was the same; in a coma, slowly fading. He thanked the nurse for her time, then headed outside, jaw set in grim determination.

A grief counselor tried to stop him in the hall. He'd talked with her before, and now he ducked her and continued on his way, refusing to admit to the so-called inevitable. Until the last heartbeat faded, and maybe even after that, he wasn't going to let himself believe his brother could die.

There had to be at least one angel out there he could force or convince to help him save his brother. There had to.

And if there wasn't, he was going to haul Crowley out of that trunk and make the demon do something, whatever the hell a demon could do. Even if it was just resurrect his brother after Sam breathed his last.

And if there was any luck out there for a Winchester, Cas had heard him and was on his way.

***LttL***

Naomi was getting frustrated.

There were numerous vehicles, and numerous humans in the building she'd entered. But none of them were willing to take her to Kansas, to the Winchesters.

Worse, her ability to influence humans was part of what had been damaged. She could still read them, just as she could hear the voices of the Heavenly Host, crying out in shock and fear and rage, but she couldn't control their minds as she once might have done.

If she wanted assistance and transportation, smiting them or threatening them with her sword was an inefficient method of obtaining it. But she was considering the possibility.

She'd had several humans express concern about the injury that Metatron had inflicted, and several who had offered to take her to a hospital, a human medical facility, but when she asked for transportation to Kansas, they all refused.

Even more annoying, she had nothing with which to bargain for passage. Not that she wanted to bargain, it was highly demeaning that an angel of the lord should stoop to such measures, but she wasn't above it if that was what it took. Her mission, to find the Winchesters and Castiel, was far too urgent for that.

But she had no money, none of the little green papers or coins that humans placed such value in, with which to pay. And while her Grace was slowly recovering, a great deal of her power had been directed at attending to her own injury, and the remainder was at the moment far too weak to be spent in performing some sort of holy miracle to convince these mortals that she was in fact an angel.

But after several hours, and numerous overheard conversations about her possibly unbalanced state and probable insanity, she was considering it. She was also considering simply leaving, walking down the road. But to walk would be far too time consuming, and her vessel's clothing was not conducive to such exercise.

And she could not fly. She wondered if it was because of the damage to her wings, or if it was a state that all angels suffered from with the closing of Heaven's gates.

She was about to resort to drastic measures when she felt another angel enter the area.

Hael. A younger angel, and not one that had been in her department. She'd taken a vessel quickly, which was impressive, but it was an ill-fitting one. Naomi could feel it. She'd burn the girl out in a matter of days. Weeks at best.

But there were other things to think of. Hael would know that she too was an angel. Hael could be convinced, or ordered, to help her with her mission. And Hael's vessel had a vehicle, which the angel had brought along. That was highly beneficial. She started toward the younger angel, only to stop as a large stinking vehicle, a truck, pulled into the lot in front of her, cutting her off. She cursed, then froze as the driver got out and came around to open the door nearest him, offering his assistance to a passenger.

A muffled sound, then a man stumbled out of the vehicle, looking rumpled and tired and confused, squinting in the sun. A man with familiar raven-black hair, a square, chiseled jaw, wearing a tan trench-coat over a suit.

Castiel.

Castiel, fully human if his hesitant awkwardness and the bandages wrapped around his hands were anything to go by. To say nothing of the dirt on his clothing.

She watched as the two men exchanged words, Castiel looking uncomfortable and uncertain as they spoke. She saw his lips form a protest, then his head ducked in evident embarrassment as the driver shook his head, reached around and stuffed a handful of green bills into his coat pocket, followed by a bottle of clear liquid shoved into his hand. A small bright disc, a coin of some sort, was deposited in Castiel's other hand. Then the mortal pointed at something on the other side of the building, slapped the former seraph on the shoulder, and walked away.

Castiel watched him, expression chagrined, then glanced at the disc in his hand and turned toward the building. Naomi shook herself and followed after him, disbelieving. She had never expected to find Castiel, in a place like this.

Then her mind caught up with her as the reason became obvious. They had been within feet of each other, literally, when they fell, both caught in the same spell. It should not have surprised her that he was nearby. She should have thought to look.

A sudden jolt in her mind brought her up short. Hael had spotted Castiel as well. She stopped at the corner, watching as Castiel turned away from a phone in a box, already occupied by an aggressive human, as Hael raced up to him. "I know you. Castiel."

Castiel turned, sharp and startled and oddly hopeful. "You're an angel."

Naomi felt bitterness in the younger angel's mind. "What's an angel without wings?"

She wanted to step forward, to take charge. That was what she was used to doing. But her mission, the mission she had assigned herself, had been to find Castiel and listen to him. To hear what he had to say. And Castiel was currently leading his younger, confused sibling over to sit on the dirty porch of the gas station, folding himself awkwardly onto the steps with Hael beside him.

He would not welcome her intrusion. Indeed, she would be fortunate if he did not run from her or attack her. There was no denying that they were not on the best of terms. It was only yesterday, after all, that she had made her pledge to him, and she'd had no time to prove she was sincere. She remained where she was, listening as Hael spoke of the Fall. She had not been conscious for her own fall to earth.

Castiel listened with sympathy as the young angel spoke of the terror of being cast out, the pain of it. Then Hael spoke. "Your Grace...it's gone?"

"Yes. Metatron..." Castiel broke off. Naomi could only see him from the side, but she recognized the pain and unhappiness in his posture.

Hael was still speaking in dazed, sad tones. "How could this happen? And what do we do? In Heaven there was order, peace..."

Castiel shifted. "That is true. But I believe you may find something better here." His hands shifted as he gestured to the area around them. "There is...opportunity here. To do what you'd like to do, rather than simply what you've been ordered to do."

Naomi listened. There was a time she would have struck him down for those words. Not so long ago she would have ordered him strapped down for another session of re-education, ripping into his mind to strip the impulse from him. Now she listened, turning his words over in her mind.

Things that angels would like to do? She had no understanding of the concept. She understood necessity and duty. But...like?

Then she recalled her decision to listen to Castiel. Perhaps that was a choice, like the ones he spoke of? She wanted Heaven restored, Metatron punished for his transgressions, and an end to the violence among angels. Were those things she would like to see? To accomplish? Was that what Castiel meant?

If she could speak with him, forge a truce with him, perhaps she could ask.

Hael was asking the same question "What would I like to do?"

She watched Castiel shrug, shoulders shifting in a purely human response that he must have learned from the Winchesters. "I don't know. You tell me."

She watched Hael consider. "When I was here, many years ago...I created something...a grand canyon. I would like to see that."

She saw Castiel's shoulders shift. "The Grand Canyon? All right. Then lets go see the Grand Canyon."

That simple. Naomi marveled at the ease with which he offered to accompany his sister. Newly human, newly thrown from Heaven once again, already hurt, and he was offering this young angel help, as if he were still the elder seraph he had been. Offering advice, comfort, aid, when he himself was in need of so much. She wondered if he even realized how vulnerable he was. Or how many of the Host would be hunting him, blaming him for the Fall and seeking restitution and answers from him.

She wondered if it mattered, or if, being Castiel, he simply did not care. If once again, his compassion was overshadowing his common sense.

She watched him rise, glance towards the phone. The man had left while Castiel and Hael were talking. Castiel glanced at his companion. "Excuse me. I need to make a call."

She watched him walk over to the booth, insert the coin the truck driver had given him, then tap out a number. She wondered when he had learned to use phones. Then the question disappeared as her superior hearing caught the words he spoke. "Dean."

The Winchesters. She had suspected they would be in contact with him.

She couldn't quite hear what the human said, but she heard Castiel's half of the conversation. His words about Metatron taking his Grace. Another burst of words, and then Castiel's shoulders relaxed. "Ezekiel...yes, he's a good angel. He'll be able to help Sam." Then his shoulders tensed up, unhappiness settling across his face. "Dean...I can't. There are angels...not all of them. Some of them are just looking for direction. Lost, confused. I need to help them. I can't just abandon them." More words. "Dean I..." He stopped. "Dean..." Then he frowned at the phone and slowly replaced it on the box.

Naomi frowned. Had the hunter perhaps issued Castiel a warning? If so, it spoke well of him.

It also answered her question about Castiel. He truly did wish to help his siblings, regardless of his own safety.

He watched the battered former seraph rejoin Hael. "Hael..." Castiel paused, looking awkward. "I...I am sorry, but I'm not sure I can accompany you."

Naomi felt the spike of anger, fear and bitter rage in Hael and tensed. She hadn't intended to intervene, but she could feel the danger Castiel was now in, and suspected that he could not.

Hael protested. "Why not? Why shouldn't you?"

"It...may not be safe. But also...I can't afford to go see the Grand Canyon right now. I have friends, close friends, who need me. I need to help them. And it's best if I go alone."

"So you will just abandon me?" The violence in Hael intensified, and Naomi found herself edging forward. Neither of them noticed her.

Castiel looked uncomfortable. "I...I'm sorry I can't go with you. But...I'm sure you'll be fine." he laid a hand on Hael's shoulder in what looked like an awkward attempt at comfort. "If the situation were different, I would...but I can't. As I said, my friends need me."

"I need you!" The words were nearly a shout, and Hael's emotions were resonating sharp and hard, angry and violent.

Castiel's expression settled into one of sadness, resignation, and determination. An expression Naomi had seen before. The expression he had worn in the diner, before he had become openly defiant of her. "I'm sorry." He brushed past Hael, heading for the road.

Naomi moved forward as fast as her vessel would allow, feeling the violent anger and fierce possessiveness in Hael. Hael spun around and grabbed a heavy wooden beam, long and thick, then whirled. Naomi intercepted her just before the beam collided with the back of Castiel's skull. "That is enough."

Castiel whirled, his expression freezing into a mix of anger, fear and defiance when he saw her.

Naomi wrenched the beam from Hael's hands and cast it to the side, then turned to face him fully. "Hello, Castiel."

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Next up...talking, negotiation, lots of suspicion..._

 _Yes, I know I altered the truck driver scene. But Cas has been powerless enough before to get hungry and thirsty. And Dean's taught him a few things, especially about prevaricating. I can't see him being that clueless, even if there are several aspects of being human he hasn't grasped yet._


	3. Chapter 3: Trust and Distrust

**Chapter Three: Trust and Distrust**

"Naomi." Castiel returned the greeting, his tone wary. One hand twitched, and his silver angel blade slipped from his sleeve. "I thought Metatron had killed you."

"He intended to. I was injured by his attack, and I was...damaged in the Fall." Naomi kept her answers simple, letting him direct the conversation.

Castiel's brow furrowed, lips pinching together in a frown. "How did you survive?"

"The same way you did. The spell Metatron used to transport you to earth carried me as well. Otherwise, I might very well have perished."

His jaw tightened, then relaxed. "Why are you here?"

She settled herself into the least threatening stance she could manage, the posture she had assumed when she had come for him in Purgatory. "I came seeking you, Castiel."

The blade flipped upright in his hand almost faster than she could see it. Being human had evidently not dulled his reflexes much. His shoulders tensed up, his body settling into the slight crouch of a well trained fighter, poised for action. "Why?"

"I know what Metatron has done to you. And I know what his intentions are." She paused, considering her options. "You spoke to Dean Winchester. Did he warn you the angels are hunting you?"

He tensed even more, jaw settling into a defiant line. "How do you know that?"

She smiled, just a little. "Your friend...he seems like the type of man who would warn his comrades of such things." She let the smile fall away. "Castiel, you were a garrison commander. The strategist who led the raid on Hell. Surely you can see what Metatron has done. Every angel will be able to sense your part in the spell. And how many do you think will believe that you did not willingly surrender your Grace? When no angel in the history of creation has ever had their Grace stolen by force? You gathered the spell components Castiel. Do you really think the others will believe you did not know what you did?"

He flinched, grief and pain and anger sparking in his eyes. "I didn't know what he intended." He gazed at her. "But you did."

"And I tried to warn you. But my warning came too late. For both of us." She risked taking a step forward, slow and cautious. "Castiel...I know what Metatron has done. He has closed Heaven, cast us out, and made you the scapegoat which all others will pursue while he consolidates his power and plans his next move."

Castiel tensed. Then his brow furrowed in thought, and his stance relaxed, just a bit. "You were in his mind. Did you see a way to reverse what he has done? To return our brothers and sisters to their home?"

"No. I did not. Metatron meant to destroy Heaven with his actions. However...that does not mean that there is no way. The impossible has been done before." She took another step, then stopped as his shoulders tensed and the blade flickered upward once more. "Castiel, I promised that I would listen to you, and aid you. Allow me to fulfill that promise. I can help protect you, help you reach the Winchesters." She held his gaze. "I do not know how many of my followers survived, and I cannot reach them. But if they pursue you, I can help protect you."

Castiel was no angel, but she felt him assessing her, studying her. She let him. Finally, his shoulders relaxed a fraction, though his expression remained wary. "I can't trust you."

"All I ask is a chance to prove my sincerity." She held out a hand, level with his forehead. "May I?" Even as she asked, she wondered if she asked the impossible. After all she had done to him as an angel, there was no reason for Castiel to trust her to touch his mortal shell.

For a long moment, she thought he would refuse. Then the blade lowered, slow and cautious, hesitant, but still he straightened and permitted her to move closer. His willingness to trust, to allow her near after all she had done to him, was astonishing.

She touched him lightly, felt the wounds he bore. Bruises on his back, from the Fall. Bruises and shallow cuts on his knees, deeper cuts on his hands and wrists. Bruises and sores forming on his feet, where they rubbed against the shoes he wore. The slight burning of his body's face, neck and hands, which was yet minimal enough that he might not have noticed. Small things, inconsequential for an angel, but which the human Castiel might have trouble with.

Healing was one power that had not deserted her. A brush, a slight pressure of her will, and the wounds were gone as if they had never been. She saw the lack of pain register in his face, relief washing over his expression. He looked down at his hand, up at her, then carefully sheathed his blade and awkwardly undid the bandage to reveal the newly healed flesh.

He studied his hand for a moment, then looked back at her. "Thank you."

"I told you, Castiel. I only wish to help you." She watched him.

There was pain, a deep pain that bordered on madness, within his eyes. "I don't need…I don't want..."

"Want or not, you do need assistance, Castiel. I can help you reach the Winchesters."

He frowned at that, consideration taking place of resistance, as she had known it would. She knew from his memories that Castiel would bargain with the devil to help the Winchesters. "How? Can you fly?"

"No. I do not believe any angel can. However, we do have a means of faster travel at our disposal." She turned to Hael, who had been watching both of them. "You have a vehicle."

Hael blinked. "I do."

She was about to order Hael to assist them when Castiel stepped forward. "No."

She turned to him. "No? Castiel, her vehicle could help us make the journey to the Winchesters in a matter of hours, instead of days."

"I know. But I promised her it was her choice." Castiel's expression was resolute. "If Hael chooses to help us, then that is one thing. But I will not let you order her to help me."

His insistence was frustrating, but not unexpected, especially given their shared history. She turned to Hael. "Will you offer your assistance, Hael?"

Hael scowled. Then she lifted her hands to pull aside her collar, revealing irregular bruising and blistering. "I need a better vessel. This one won't last long. But he is strong." She jerked her chin at Castiel.

Castiel blinked. "You...want me to let you possess me?"

"Of course. You are very compatible as a vessel."

"That is not possible." Naomi shook her head. "Castiel is at risk from all of Heaven. He is also unsuitable for possession for a number of other reasons." She wasn't entirely sure that Castiel's unique nature was compatible for other angels. Not given his history, or his current state.

"But I need a better vessel!"

"I will help you find one once Castiel is safely delivered. You have my word." Naomi folded her hands in front of her. Hael looked slightly dubious. "Castiel is not suitable for you."

Hael studied her. "I do not know you."

"I am Naomi."

That sparked a reaction. "You led one of the factions of Heaven. You were keeping an eye on him. They said you took command of him." Hael's chin jerked in Castiel's direction. Castiel flinched, but Hael looked thoughtful. "Do you truly think you can find me a more suitable vessel than this one?"

"I do. There are resources available to me. And once I have contacted my subordinates, there may be other avenues. I will make it a priority." She let her voice firm from bargaining to stern. "But only once Castiel has been delivered safely to his destination."

Hael considered. "Very well. I will help you. I do have a vehicle."

Castiel blinked as she produced a set of keys. "Do you know how to drive it?"

Hael's eyes unfocused briefly. "Yes. I do. It has fuel."

"Then we should go." Naomi turned to Castiel. "We only need to know where we are going." She knew the Winchesters were in Kansas, but she didn't know the exact town. It was one reason she'd had trouble finding transportation.

Castiel frowned, hesitating. Finally something loosened in his shoulders. "Lebanon Kansas."

"Then we should go. I am sure you are anxious to reach the Winchesters as soon as possible." For that matter, Naomi was anxious to get to the Winchesters herself, if only because they tended to be the center of activity, and the fastest way to come into contact with other angels.

Hael pointed to a dark green car of medium size. "That is my vehicle."

Castiel frowned. "I agree that we should go. But first..." He glanced towards the building. "I have to...umm, I believe I need to answer what Dean would refer to as a call of nature." His face flushed a darker red.

Hael frowned. "A call of nature?"

Castiel scowled, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I need to urinate." Then he turned and strode toward the building, his back stiff with tension.

Naomi watched him go. She hadn't considered Castiel's now mortal nature. They would have to plan, not only for the inefficiency of human modes of transport, but for the limitations of Castiel's body. She would have to monitor him very carefully, to make sure he remained in optimal health.

Castiel emerged a few minutes later, carrying a small bag and looking much more relaxed. "We should go."

Hael led them over to the car and opened it, sliding into what Naomi recognized as the driver's seat. Naomi, at Castiel's gesture, took the seat next to Hael. Castiel slid into the back, and they were on their way.

 _ **Author's Note:** So...what do you think of Castiel and Naomi's initial interaction? _

_Next up...Winchesters, a few revelations and a little planning..._


	4. Chapter 4: Angel Sanctuary

**Chapter Four: Angel Sanctuary**

Driving turned out to be a slow and tedious process, at least in Naomi's opinion. She was used to the near instantaneous transition of flight, and the crawling pace of the earthbound vehicle was frustrating. Still, it was faster than walking in her vessel would have been, and more comfortable as well. With that in mind, she managed to keep her opinions to herself.

Hael, or rather Hael's vessel, turned out to be a very competent driver. She kept the car going at a smooth pace, steady on the road and, if Naomi was reading everything correctly, obeying the speed limits and rules that humans placed upon their transportation.

Castiel was quiet. He wasn't asleep, Naomi knew that much. She could feel the active awareness in his mind, and the tension. He was clearly uncomfortable about being in the car with her, and with an angel who wanted to possess him. Naomi was content to leave him be. Their truce was tentative, she knew that. She needed to prove herself worthy of his trust before she demanded anything else of him.

It was a strange feeling. It had been centuries since she had ever needed to prove herself. And she had never had to earn someone's trust. She wasn't quite sure how to go about it. Perhaps she would simply follow Castiel's lead. Certainly, that would be her plan for dealing with the Winchesters. He knew them, she didn't. They trusted him, as she was sure they'd never trust her. Especially after she'd commanded Castiel to kill Dean Winchester.

She would probably have to apologize again. That was another thing she was unused to doing. Apologizing. Admitting that she'd been in error. And admitting it to humans, no less. She wasn't at all sure how she would manage. She was tempted to ask Castiel for some assistance, but she doubted he would give it. She had seen the madness that lay under his calm, and knew the wounds of her treatment of him were close to the surface.

But there was one thing she might address with him, if they had a moment alone. She would not speak of it around Hael, but she did want to apologize for Samandriel. She understood now, how he must have grieved for the death of his younger brother, and how much more it must have pained him to be the one that killed him. At the time it had seemed a necessary measure, to keep Samandriel from revealing secrets angels weren't meant to know, but in hindsight, she thought she might have been wrong about that as well.

After a few hours, Hael pulled them over and drove to a small station that looked like the one they'd left. "This vehicle needs fuel."

"Do you know how to fuel a car?" Castiel's voice grated out of the back seat, the first time he'd spoken since they'd started.

Hael frowned. "I do. My vessel does." She fished in a small bag she had put on the floor and found a small card. "I can use this, can't I?"

"Yes." Castiel gave the younger angel several instructions, reciting them in the manner of someone repeating a lesson learned long ago. Hael repeated them dutifully, then stepped out of the car and began the process of filling the vehicle with the acrid smelling fuel.

Naomi turned to look at Castiel. He looked worn, tired. "Do you require anything? Nourishment? A..." She frowned, remembering the phrase he'd used earlier. "...call of nature?"

"No. I have what I need." His hand clenched on the bag. Then he opened it to reveal some bottles of water, and something that looked like food.

"I see." She decided not to press him any further. Instead, she looked outside. Hael seemed engrossed in completing her task, which made it an ideal time for her to address the issue that had been on her mind. "Castiel...I wish to apologize."

Castiel stared at her, suspicion in his eyes. He said nothing.

Well, it would likely be excellent practice for the Winchesters. And he couldn't smite her, though he might stab her with an angel blade. She didn't think he would though.

She knew him well enough now to know that Castiel despised killing, particularly unnecessary killing. He wouldn't kill a fellow angel in cold blood, and not at all if he could avoid it.

She gathered her resolve. "I wish to apologize for setting you against the Winchesters. And for what transpired between you and Samandriel."

Rage flowered in Castiel's expression, sparking with a force that would have caused explosions if he hadn't been human. His jaw and his hands clenched, fury in every line of his mortal body. "He was an innocent. A brother. Crowley tortured him. And you...you forced me to kill him." There was a crunch as something within the bag gave under his pressure. "I told him I would save him. And you forced me to betray him." Under the rage was pain, deep and agonizing.

Metatron had seen this. She wondered how she could have been blind enough to miss it. "I know."

"He trusted me."

"And you...loved him." It was hard to speak the words. Hard to even think them. How long had it been, since angels had understood love? Or felt it? She couldn't recall a time when she had experienced such emotion. It was hard even to contemplate such things.

"He was my brother." Castiel looked away from her. Anger melted into weary despair, tension draining from his frame. "I never wanted to kill my brothers."

"I know. I have come to understand that." And she had, looking through Metatron's eyes, and Castiel's memories, and her own understanding of them. "That is why I wished to apologize." She paused. "I have...come to understand that...perhaps I do not...perhaps I was wrong, in my thoughts of and my efforts to shape Heaven to my will." That was hard to admit.

"I don't trust you."

"I do not ask you to." Not yet, at least. "I only ask..." She paused. "You have learned much from the Winchesters. Our ways of controlling Heaven have brought nothing but war. And now, we are cast out. Perhaps it is time to try new methods. Learn new lessons. It is my hope that you can teach me these things."

"Before, you wished to destroy everything I had learned, to rip it away from me. You would have killed the Winchesters, turned me into a puppet. Why? Why would you change now?" He turned blazing blue eyes back to her.

She wasn't sure. She couldn't explain why she'd changed her mind. Or when.

Because of what she'd seen in Metatron's mind? Or what she'd seen in the memories stolen from Castiel? Because she didn't understand how he continued to survive, couldn't escape the lingering feeling that he was truly chosen by their Father? He had lived through so much that would have destroyed other angels.

Perhaps it had been the realization that he had never wavered. Not once, not even with repeated re-education, with torture and mind-wiping and everything else. Not even when faced with death and his own annihilation. He had never wavered, not in his convictions, nor in his belief in their Father, though God had never answered him. No other angel had remained so steadfast.

She folded her hands together and answered him honestly. "I cannot explain my reasons to you, Castiel. I only know that what Metatron has done to you is a horrendous wrong, and that, in light of knowing this, that I believe I have also made an error, and I wish to set it right, if it is possible."

Castiel might have replied, but Hael opened the door. His jaw snapped shut at once and she felt him withdraw from their conversation. As Hael began the process of re-starting their journey, Castiel folded himself tighter into the seat and fixed his gaze firmly out the window.

Naomi didn't bother to try and re-engage him. Their conversation was private, and she had not hoped to change Castiel's mind just yet. She had meant to convey her apologies and try to form some sort of common ground between them, but she knew it would take work. Even someone of Castiel's generous spirit would not trust immediately. Not with all she had done to him.

She would simply have to wait until he was ready to talk, and then be prepared to fulfill her promise to listen.

They finally arrived at their destination late in the evening. Castiel directed them through the last few turns, up a narrow lane that ended in a hill.

Not a hill. There was a door there, very well concealed. Naomi blinked at it. It didn't look like much, an old, heavy door, settled into the hillside and bound into a concrete frame. There was nothing particularly impressive about the place, and certainly nothing that suggested it would be an adequate shelter for even just the two Winchesters, let alone their prophet and the three of them. To say nothing of the angel that had reportedly helped save Samuel Winchester's life.

"Wait here." Castiel opened his door, clambered awkwardly out, then shut it and moved towards the door, stumbling on the first few steps. Naomi wondered if his human form was stiff or in pain, but she made no move to follow him. Hael remained in the car as well, following their lead.

 *****LtL*****

Castiel made his way wearily to the Bunker. He felt exhausted, and all his extremities ached. He was beginning to understand why Sam and Dean stopped as often as they did on their road trips. Being human was much more difficult than he'd thought.

Still, he was here. And despite his exhaustion, he couldn't stop the thrill of joy that passed through him, that he had finally rejoined his family. He hoped both Sam and Dean were all right, and that Ezekiel wouldn't be too unhappy to see him. He hadn't had any trouble with that particular angel, but sometimes his reputation made things difficult.

Of course, he suspected the real difficulty would be his two companions. He wasn't entirely sure he'd done the right thing in accepting their assistance, though he was grateful he hadn't had to walk the whole way here. Or hitch-hike, as the truck driver had called it.

He wished he had a cell phone, but he'd lost it in the Fall. He sighed and hit the door hard, hoping the noise would draw some attention.

For several moments, nothing happened. Then he heard the sound of bolts and locks being manipulated. He stepped back, and the door swung open to reveal Dean. The hunter was holding a gun, and standing in a way that suggested he had a blade on hand, ready for use, but he dropped the pistol quickly enough. "Cas?"

"Dean." He looked away from the hunter, feeling suddenly embarrassed about his battered state and dusty clothing. He knew, logically, that Dean had seen him weak, seen him hurt and worn, several times. Unfortunately, his newly human emotions weren't responding to logic. He felt oddly ashamed of his sudden humanity. He might have been weak and broken before, even insane, but at least he'd always been an angel. He'd always had something he could offer the Winchesters in return for their hospitality and acceptance. Now though, he had nothing.

That thought died when the hunter wrapped him in a bruising embrace. "Damn. It's good to see you." Dean thumped him on the back, then released him. "I didn't think you'd make it for another couple of days, with everything else."

He meant the Fall, and Castiel's new status. Castiel swallowed, knowing Dean wasn't likely to like what he had to say. "I had...assistance."

"Yeah?" Dean blinked. "Friendly trucker?"

"Originally, yes. But he only took me to a fuel station. I...I met two of my sisters there. They helped me." He swallowed hard. "I told you, some of them were only lost and confused..."

"Yeah. And you wanted to help 'em out. I remember." Dean scowled, but it wasn't a very heavy scowl, more like the ones he wore when he and Sam were arguing about how to handle a hunt. "You brought 'em here?"

"They brought me, but yes." He might as well tell Dean the whole thing. "Dean, one of them is Naomi."

Dean's eyes hardened, the scowl settling into something much more dangerous. "The bitch that tried to kill me? The one who did all that shit to screw you up? Tried to wipe your brain?"

"Yes." He reached out, caught the hunter's shoulders before Dean could go for his angel blade. "I know you don't trust her. I don't either. But she helped me. And she apologized. She said she wants to make amends. And I...I believe she is sincere, for the moment. She helped heal my injuries from the Fall, and she protected me from another angel." He bit his lip, then dragged out his last argument. "She said she might be able to help Sam."

Dean's eyes flickered. "We already got Zeke on that."

"But Naomi might be able to speed up the process. And she can help prevent other angels from hunting us." He searched Dean's face.

Dean seemed to be searching his as well. Finally the hunter snarled out a sigh and relaxed. "Fine. She can come in. But you're responsible for her. And if she screws any shit up, I will end her. No second chances."

"Agreed." He'd never intended to argue that. In fact, he'd fight Dean for the right to strike her down himself, if she double-crossed them.

Dean sighed again. "Well, come on inside. I got some food made, and me and Sammy and the kid were looking into this angel thing. We could use some extra eyes."

"Of course." He should have known the Winchesters would be working on how to solve the problem of angels on Earth. They had been working on the angel tablet even before Metatron had come to him, so they most likely had far better information than the angelic host did. Not to mention all the resources of the Men of Letters.

Dean turned and stalked back inside, leaving the door open. Castiel returned to the car and wrenched open Naomi's door. "The Winchesters have agreed to allow you entry, as long as you agree to follow their rules. Betray them, and you will die."

"That is reasonable." Naomi stepped out of the car, looking for all the world that she'd just arrived on Earth. Castiel bit the inside of his cheek. He knew he looked dirty and disheveled. He probably looked as tired and sore as he felt. And he was hungry, in spite of the food he'd acquired earlier.

He gestured for Naomi to walk ahead of him, then followed her, Hael trailing uncertainly along behind. The younger angel didn't say anything, though she seemed slightly ill at ease. Then again, she'd seemed that way since Naomi had joined them, so perhaps it was reasonable. Castiel wasn't all that comfortable with Naomi's presence himself.

Entering the Bunker was a surprisingly uncomfortable experience. He'd never really been troubled by any sort of human architecture before, but being human gave him a different perspective. He was uncomfortably aware of the steepness of the spiral stairs into the main area of the Bunker, and the closeness of the walls. He was also aware that if he fell, it was going to hurt.

He made it down the stairs without trouble though, and joined Naomi in the map room just as Sam Winchester emerged from the library.

Hunter, angel and former angel stared at each other. And then everything exploded.

 *****LtL*****

She had expected Dean Winchester's stipulations, and she had no intention of defying him. She needed a safe place to heal, and she had no desire to leave Castiel's side. Still, she was wary as she descended into the dwelling that the Winchesters had claimed for their own.

Despite the unremarkable exterior, the inside of their new home was remarkably comfortable and spacious, for a human dwelling. The room they descended into was open and well-lit, with a large map in the center. Several places on the map glowed red. Naomi studied them, blinking in mingled surprise and cautious hope when she realized what the red spots represented. They were places where angels had fallen to Earth. It might not show where they were now, but it would at least provide a starting point when she attempted to contact her followers and allies. That was useful.

A presence drew her attention, and she turned away from the map as Sam Winchester and Castiel came into the room. "Hey Cas..." The words trailed off as he spotted her.

Angelic presence flared, overwhelming the human soul that masked it. She caught the sudden, sharp shock as the other angel recognized her, followed by overwhelming fear. Fear and rage.

She had never, to the best of her knowledge, been forced to correct Ezekiel. There was no reason for him to be afraid. She reached out on instinct, reading the identity of the angel's Grace. The answer came to her in a burst of awareness.

This angel was not Ezekiel.

Then the angel in Sam Winchester's body exploded into motion. He drew an angel blade and launched across the room. She didn't dare smite him, and the moment of indecision cost her the only advantage she might have had. The angel caught her and slammed her back into the wall by the stairs, raising his blade to strike.

"Sam!" Dean Winchester's voice interrupted the angel's movement. Within moments the older hunter was at his brother's side, tugging on his arm. "Hey. Chill. Look, I know we don't like her, but just relax. Cas vouched for her."

"She cannot stay here." The angel backed up, but didn't release his blade. "She is a threat."

Dean paused. "Zeke?"

"She is a threat. If she remains, I cannot." The angel turned Sam Winchester's long, heavy frame. "She will bring the other angels down on us."

"If she does that, we'll ice her. But Cas said she promised to behave, even stop other angels from coming after him." Dean frowned. "You got a beef with the other angels, Zeke?"

"I..."

"He is not Ezekiel." Naomi straightened her vessel's clothing. "His Grace is not that of Ezekiel's. And Ezekiel and I have never met. There would be no reason for him to fear me."

"I know your reputation." The angel in Sam's body didn't relax.

"Maybe. But the Ezekiel I know wouldn't threaten to let Sam Winchester die for that." Castiel moved forward, cocking his head in a manner that all of them recognized.

Naomi took a moment to study the angel's Grace, and compare it to the angels she knew, or knew about.

It wasn't an angel who had come before her for correction. She would have known those, known the shards of missing Grace or memory, seen the marks of the required re-education.

This angel had never been re-educated at all. He would have no reason to fear pursuit, or danger, in that case. Unless...a prisoner?

There had only ever been a few prisoners, at least since Lucifer's Fall. All the angels who had joined him had been sent into the Pit with him, rather than being imprisoned in Heaven. Most of the angels who had been in prison had been awaiting re-education, or suffering punishment for some minor infraction. Most of those had been released after the appropriate time. Most of them had understood their punishment, and even the ones who might have resented it were not afraid of her. She had never been the Warden.

There had, in fact, only been one angel in Heaven's prison for centuries. Only one…

"Gadreel."

The angel stiffened, and she saw his Grace flare with the acknowledgment of his name. His true name.

Gadreel. The disgraced guard of Eden, who had allowed the serpent to poison the minds of Adam and Eve. He had been locked away since then. But of course, if he had been expelled from Heaven with the rest of the Host, he would wish to avoid detection. He would not wish to be seen, or discovered. It was a wonder, really, that he had come to the aid of the Winchesters at all. It had put him in danger, which he could have avoided.

Castiel stiffened at the name. "Gadreel?" He took a sharp step forward, anger suffusing his features.

"Whoa." Dean Winchester got between them. "Whoa, Cas. Hold up. Who's Gadreel? And why would he lie about his name anyway?"

"He was the one who let Lucifer into the Garden of Eden. He let evil poison mankind. Everything that happened after was his fault. His fault!" Castiel snarled the words.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Naomi moved forward to catch the former seraph by the shoulder. "Castiel...have we not all made mistakes, for which we seek redemption?"

Castiel flinched at the words, turning to face her. "You know what he did..."

"And I also know what you have done. And you know what I have done." She met his eyes, refusing to give ground. "Would you shed another angel's blood simply for a sin he may not have intended to commit? As I have done with you?"

 _And Samandriel._ She did not say the words, but she hoped he understood them.

"Hate to say it Cas, but she kinda has a point. We've all screwed up." Dean had moved from his brother's side to Castiel's. "Look, if he's a bad apple, then we'll deal with it. But right now he's helping Sam. He's keeping him alive and fixing all the stuff the trials did to him. So I'm asking, just for Sam's sake, give him a chance. Okay?" He put a hand on Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel wavered. Then he nodded. "All right. I will. But if he betrays us..." He cast a fierce look at Gadreel.

"Then you can get a number and wait in line, or we'll kick his ass together. I promise Cas."

Castiel nodded. "All right."

Naomi turned to Gadreel herself. "It is not my intention to punish or imprison you. I have no power to do so, but even if I did, I would not use it. There are many other issues that we must deal with. If I promise my protection, as far as it goes, will you in turn promise to remain with Samuel Winchester, to heal and protect him, and to take Castiel under your protection as well?" Castiel shot her an offended look, but she ignored it. After all, he was human now. He would need to be protected sometimes. Even Hael could have gotten the best of him, at the gas station.

Gadreel, in Sam Winchester's body, considered her words. He studied her. "You swear you will vouch for me to our brothers and sisters?"

"You have my word. I have no interest in persecuting you, and I have already promised my aid to the Winchesters and all those under their care."

Gadreel looked at her, then Castiel, then Dean Winchester. Finally he nodded. "Very well. I will remain."

A brief spark of Grace flared in the hunter's eyes. Then Sam Winchester was back, staggering slightly. "What...what just happened?" He twisted to look at his brother. "Dean?"

Dean Winchester shuffled in place. "Uh...Sammy…" He trailed off.

Castiel frowned. "You did not tell Sam?"

"Tell me what?" Sam looked from his brother to Castiel, his brow creasing in frustration and concern. "Dean?"

"The trials man. They nearly killed you. Even when you quit 'em. I took you to a hospital, but they said there was nothing they could do for you." Dean met his brother's eyes, his expression filled with shame-faced desperation. "I was desperate."

"What did you do?" Sam was tense. "Did you...Dean, did you make a deal? With Crowley, or another demon?"

"No. I would have, if there wasn't any other way. But it wasn't what I did. I put out a call to all angels." Dean swallowed, hands clenching and unclenching. "I got an angel to help you. But the damage was too great to heal all at once, especially now that the angels Fell. So..." He swallowed again. "I had to do it Sam."

"Do what?" Sam scowled.

"I got you to say yes." Dean's face was pale. "Cas couldn't help you. There wasn't any other way to save you. So I entered your dream and got you to say yes."

Sam went paler than his brother. "I...you allowed me to be possessed?"

"Yeah. He told me his name was Ezekiel. Cas vouched for him." Dean took a deep breath. "Turns out, he's an angel named Gadreel. Some guard in Eden who got into trouble. But he promised he wouldn't do anything except what I asked him to. Cas and Naomi promised to keep an eye on him." Dean stepped forward and laid a tentative hand on Sam's shoulder. "Look, it's just till you heal up from the trials. Then you can banish him, or whatever. I'll even help, if it comes to that. But just...until you're better, bear with it, okay?"

"And how do you expect to know if I'm really better?"

Naomi stepped forward. "I will monitor your progress. If you will permit me."

Sam swung around to face her. "And why would I trust you?"

"I offered my assistance to Castiel."

"She did. She helped me get here." Castiel stepped forward. "Sam...I understand your concerns. But..." He swallowed hard. "Dean is correct. I cannot help you. This is the best option."

Sam stared at Cas, concern replacing his fury. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Castiel flushed. "I...Metatron. He took my Grace. I'm human now."

Sam's fury disappeared as he stepped forward. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm uninjured. Though I could use some food, and most likely some way of cleaning myself." He looked at his battered and dusty clothing. "I was...lost in the woods for a while."

"Yeah. I think Dean has some spare stuff. Or we might have some general size clothing, for the odd visitor. And you can use the shower and some of our supplies…I can show you where the towels are." Sam paused. "Dean..."

"I got some food prepped. Should be enough for all four of us. I made extra. It's just soup, but..."

"Soup sounds wonderful." Castiel looked hopeful.

"Great. I'll dish you up a bowl." Dean met his brother's eyes a moment, exchanging some unspoken communication that even Naomi couldn't catch. Then Sam relaxed, just a little. Dean followed suit, then turned back to a doorway set behind the stairs.

Sam watched him go. "I'd better get Kevin. And we should eat. The rest of you..." His gaze raked over Naomi and Hael both. "Just...don't go anywhere until we sort you out."

Naomi nodded her agreement. Hael looked slightly rebellious, but followed suit. Sam turned and followed his brother, muted anger in his posture. Castiel followed him without a word.

Naomi watched them go, then went to a chair. In spite of her Grace, her vessel felt somewhat rundown. Besides, there was no telling how long eating would take the Winchesters. And while she was tempted to explore, she had agreed to abide by their rules. So she would wait.

For the time being, they were safe. And they had a place from which to work. Perhaps, with a little persuasion, she could convince the Winchesters to help her contact her people. That was enough to start with.

She did wonder, though, how Gadreel had wound up there. And why it sounded like the Winchesters were associating with the King of Hell.

 _ **Author's Note:** Team Free Will reunited! Unexpected revelations for all!_

 _And it only gets more fun from here..._


End file.
